


Alternative Medicine

by Impala_Dreamer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, NSFW, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 11:31:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16872148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Dreamer/pseuds/Impala_Dreamer
Summary: ~Research has knocked you down, but Dean thinks he has the magic cure~





	Alternative Medicine

“That’s it! I’m done!” Bleary-eyed and exhausted you pushed your chair back from the big wooden table and stood up, slamming your book down and announcing your departure. “I can’t take it anymore!” **  
**

The brothers looked up from their research, each eyeing you with furrowed brows and frowning lips.

“Y/N/N, we kinda need to get this done.” Sam looked at you with the most pathetic Puppy-In-Crisis eyes, but you would not be deterred.

“Sam,” you shook your head, slapping your hands on your hips. “I have been reading the same fucking paragraph for the last ten fucking minutes and have retained exactly zero fucking information. I’m exhausted. Please, I gotta go lie down.”

Dean chuckled softly and looked over at his brother. “You know she’s tired when she drops all the f-bombs.” He whispered the “f-bombs” like it was a secret, and licked his lips, looking up at you as if he thought he was funny. When you didn’t even crack a smile, his expression fell and he shrugged. “Sorry?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved him off and rubbed your eyes. “This case has got me so fuc- friggin’ stressed. I have had a migraine for like four days. I’m taking a nap. Call me if you find anything remotely helpful.”

You heard Sam let out an overly-dramatic sigh and for sure he rolled his eyes along with it, but you were gone, stomping from the Library with punctuated steps that echoed through the halls and your head. You had been working for over a week on a case that, wasn’t even a case if your hunch was correct. Thankfully you were doing the leg work at home and could escape to your own bed when the strain pushed you too far.

You slammed your bedroom door so hard that the latch didn’t have time to catch and it bounced back open halfway, but you could not find the energy to care. You needed two pillows; one under your head and one over your eyes, and the warmth of your favorite blanket. Pulling off your jeans and your bra, you fell face first into bed and set yourself up for an epic nap.

It took a while to push the case from your mind. The words you had read all day floated behind your eyes and would not cease their constant movement. It was dizzying, and the movement compounded the pressure at your temples that beat in time with your heart like a tiny hammer.

After a few deep breaths and a lot of begging yourself to relax, you finally started to. The darkness offered by your pillow sandwich was comforting and your mind finally let go and took on that fuzzy quality that so often preceded a good dream.

“Let’s make it a good one,” you sighed and snuggled down further into the blanket.

“Y/N/N?”

Your eyes were closed, but you still rolled them. “Go away, Dean! What does a closed door mean? You go away.”

“Actually, Princess,” he said with a smirk, “the door is open.”

You sat up, pushing away your pillow face mask and saw that he was correct. “Well, fuck. What do you want?”

Dean walked in and tossed a bottle of water onto the bed next to you. “You said you had a migraine. So…” He came around the side of the bed and held out his hand, offering you two little green pills.

You took the pills, feeling grateful but guilty for barking at him. “Thanks, baby.”

Dean smiled as you cracked the water bottle open and swallowed the Excedrin. “You don’t have to work so hard, you know. It’s probably not even a case. Sam’s just bored.”

“That’s what I said!” You sighed and reached for his hand, pulling it to your lips and kissing him gently. “Now, let me catch some Zs, huh?”

Instead of turning to leave, Dean sat on the edge of the bed, pushing against your hips with his leg. “You know, there are other ways to relax.” The twinkle in his eye and the quick flash of tongue over his lips was enough on a normal day to have you jump in his lap, but not today.

“You’re out of your damn mind, Winchester. I have a headache.”

Again, he smirked, this time fitting his hands on either side of your waist and leaning down over you slowly. “It is a scientific fact that orgasms cure migraines. Helps with the… blood flow.”

You were annoyed but intrigued at the way his teeth pulled at his lip when he said the letter ‘f’. His plump bottom lip dented under his front teeth and then sprung back out, taunting you, begging to be kissed.

“Dean…”

“Yeah, Y/N/N?” He leaned even closer, just enough so that you could feel his breath on your lips.

“Is that true?” You asked, batting your eyelashes at him innocently. Your head was pounding, but if a roll in the sheets could cure you… who were you to decline?

“How about we find out?”

“Do your best,” you teased.

Dean wiggled his brow and dove down to take your lips. “I always do.”

You kept your eyes open as long as you could, loving the desire that darkened his emerald eyes and the way they narrowed on approach, seeking out their prey; but as soon as his juicy lips pressed to yours, everything stopped. Your breath hitched and your eyes closed. His hands rose to caress your cheek as he slowly slid his tongue across your bottom lip. When you opened to him, he moved a little quicker, a little firmer, and his tongue met yours with a familiar hunger that you would never get used to. It sent shivers down your back and it curled your toes. Dean wanted you more than anything else, and each kiss he gave reminded you of just how much.

It wasn’t long until you were clawing at his flannel, desperate to feel him against you, but Dean was focused on your lips and neck, making sure to taste every bit of you and hit all the spots that made you moan. Slowly, you snuck your fingers up underneath his tee and ran them down along his sides and back up to his chest, feeling his stomach twitch under your touch.

As you catalogued his bulk, Dean slipped a warm hand between your legs and pressed up against your pussy, gently rubbing you through your panties. You let your knees fall open and lifted your hips as he peeled back the cotton barrier and traced your entrance with his thumb.

“Dean, fuck, please.” You whimpered against his cheek as he teased your clit, barely touching you.

“Just getting started, baby,” he told you before pulling completely away and standing up to shed his shirts.

You watched him moving obnoxiously slow, and lost your patience as he did a little dance, wiggling his hips to drop his jeans. “If you don’t hurry up, I’m going back to sleep.”

“Oh, no you’re not,” he warned and then crawled onto the bed, dropping down over you and pressing his lips to your neck. You pushed your head back and your hands through his hair, holding on as he sucked a kiss against your pulse. He stayed there for a long moment, running his tongue over your favorite spot as he slid one hand up underneath your shirt and cupped your breast, rolling your nipple with a gentle pressure that sent a sweet shock to your core. He knew every inch of your body and what each spot did to you. He knew how to make you whimper and how to make you scream. How to make you cum fast and hard, or draw it out as long as possible. You hated him and loved him in the same breath, and needed whatever he wanted to give you.  

“Dean, please…”

With a satisfied grin, Dean pushed up on his arms and hovered over you. “What, baby?” He dipped his head to kiss you but stopped just shy of your lips. “What’s wrong?”

“Stop teasing me, please,” you begged and grabbed his hips as you lifted yours, trying to coax him to move faster. You could feel him, hard and ready against your still-covered wetness, but he wouldn’t budge.

“I thought you had a headache,” he said with a teasing pout as he rocked his hips just enough to make your body tense in anticipation.

“Dean. Winchester.” you panted and snaked your arms up his back to run through his hair gently.

“Yes, Y/N Y/L/N?”

Your fingers tightened in this hair, tugging him down to you as you growled, “Fuck. Me. Now.”

Dean’s eyes widened and a shudder passed over his broad shoulders, “Have mercy!”

Dean rolled off of you to sheath himself while you shed your clothes, more than ready to get the show on the road. He was cute with the one-liners, but enough is enough. You gave up a nap for this and your head was still pounding.

Before you were able to lay back, Dean grabbed your arm and pulled you down against him, running his fingers through your hair as he kissed away your frustration. He never failed to erase whatever was bothering you with a simple touch of his hand, a kiss to dull the pain, and a smile to help you forget.

Dean eased you onto your back once more as his hand moved slowly down your body. You breathed into him, letting go of every ounce of stress as he held you close, one arm wrapped behind your shoulder and the other traveling your curves. He gently spread your legs and pushed two fingers into your heat, catching your moan with his mouth. He pumped in and out quickly, gathering up your wetness and moving his slick fingers up to your clit. He pressed down against the aching bud, but kept his hand still, forcing you to rock your hips against him, begging him with your whimpers to move.

Every muscle was burning, tensed and aching. You grabbed at his neck as he kissed you, trying to pull him over you, needing him to crush you. Finally he rolled over and settled between your legs, his arms above your shoulders, holding him up. He looked down at you, smiling as he pecked your lips once more and drove his thick cock into you. You let out a cry of relief as he sank in, filling you completely and easing a bit of the ache he had built up.

You wrapped your legs around him and held onto his shoulders as he began to move, thrusting hard and steady, pushing you higher and higher. You let him take you away, closing your eyes and focusing on the press of his hips and the heat that pulsed off of his chest. Nothing else mattered. Not the case, not the books you left behind, not the demons or witches, nothing. Nothing but Dean Winchester fucking you until you couldn’t see straight.

When the moment came, it hit you like a tidal wave. You held your breath as the pleasure burst inside of you, spreading out into each cell, curling your fingers and toes against Dean’s warm body.

Dean came a moment later, forced into it by the blissed-out look on your face and the way you cried his name. He kissed you hard as he finished, locking his hips against you and grunting against your lips.

When he settled down, he pushed up on his arms again to stare down at you. He was gorgeous; long lashes covering eyes that looked at you with nothing but love, childlike freckles that dotted his tanned skin, and lips blushed red by your kisses. You lifted your hand to his cheek, just wanting to touch him, to lock the moment in your mind. Dean smiled and turned to kiss your fingers before collapsing onto the bed next to you.

“How’s the headache?” he asked as he lifted his arm to take you under his wing.

You snuggled against him, resting your hand over his heart and your head on his arm. “I think you were right. I’m cured. Fuck.”

Dean laughed and squeezed his arm tight around you. “Told ya.”

You nudged his ribs, making him squirm away. “Watch the sass, dude or I’ll feign another one.”

Dean took a deep breath and ran a hand down his face. “OK, but you’re gonna have to give me a few minutes.”

 


End file.
